


The Family Hawke

by Lithosaurus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Found Family, Hawke Family Feels, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: Malcolm Hawk always knew he wanted a big family. Living on the lam in Ferelden complicated that but there are plenty of people who need a man with a big heart and welcoming home.In which; Team Kirkwall gets together a bit earlier than usual.





	1. Anders

Anders was first.

The twins were just a few months old and the family was in no condition to go on the run again. When the Templar hunting party came up the road, Malcolm considered simply going with them. Maybe it would be easier to go back to the Circle, not live his life constantly watching his back and worrying where he could find enough food for five mouths. It was an insidious little thought that he brushed off immediately. He dropped his pitchfork and made for the cottage.

Leandra played the simple country wife while he rushed to load whatever useful things he could onto their wagon. Garret tried to help but mostly got underfoot. Malcolm sent him to collect the jam and pickles from the cellar mainly to give himself some room. When his son came flying back with an eager expression and no preserves Malcolm had to reign in his temper.

“Pa, there’s a boy in the cellar!” Garret informed him.

“Pardon?”

“A boy. He’s wearing a dress and yelled at me to go away.”

They weren’t here for him. It was some other run away the bastards were after. Malcolm’s mind raced. His family was his first priority but he would never have escaped himself without help and Andraste did smile upon those who returned kindness to the world.

He slammed open the door to the cottage.   
“Leandra, some brat- well, you got here fast.”

He tried to look angry, disgruntled, anything but afraid.

The Templar Lieutenant said, “Ser, we’re looking for a young apostate. We believe he may be hiding here.”

Malcolm snorted. “He was. You just missed him. Slaughtered one of my chickens and took off towards the river. Apologized about the blood. It looked like he had cut himself as well.”

The Templars shared a look amongst themselves.

“When did this happen?”

“Just now. I chased him a bit but then came in here to tell me wife I was heading into town looking for you lot.”

“Thank you for your help, serah. We will pursue him with the greatest diligence.”

With that, the lieutenant stood and marched out. On his hip was a familiarly shaped pouch. It had to be the boy’s phylactery. The blood excuse would work as a suitable diversion for now but he would still be in danger as long as they had that. Malcolm took a breath and took a risk. The most delicate of force spells centered inside of a pouch he couldn’t see. He felt the glass splinter a fraction and exhaled. The crack would grow and pretty soon the phylactery would be useless.

Garret followed him back to the cellar asking a thousand questions. There was indeed a boy hiding behind a sack of potatoes. He was thin faced and lanky with wheat blond hair hanging around his narrow shoulders. Malcolm reckoned he must have been nearly as tall as himself and still growing.

“The Templars have buggered off.” He called from the stairs. “You can come out when you’re ready. Or, you can stick around, get a good meal in you. Your phylactery won’t be an issue and we’re no harm to you.”

He formed a ball of mage light around his hand and set it floating towards the boy. He watched hungrily as the light drifted toward him but didn’t speak. Malcolm climbed back out of the cellar and caught Garret before he could go darting down behind him.

“Leave him be, son. Let’s clean this mess up and then see if your mother can be persuaded to make an extra serving of dinner.”

The boy didn’t leave the cellar for another three days, at least not that Malcolm ever saw him. Garret brought water flasks and fresh food down to him. If the lingering smell of baked potato was anything to judge by, he was probably scrapping by with their winter stores and fire spells.

On the fourth day, Malcolm was butchering a goose in the yard when he saw the cellar door creak open slowly. He pretended to keep his eyes on the dead bird in front of him as a mop of blond hair peaked up and froze. After another moment, the entirety of the boy emerged. He was lanky and thin, going through a growth spurt of early adolescence. He squatted down next to Malcolm and fidgeted a few feathers in his fingers.

“Thank you.” He said hoarsely.

“It was the least I could do. Others took far greater risks to get me out of the Circle.”

“You escaped a Circle, too?” The boy’s eyes widened even further.

“Six years ago now, from Kirkwall’s Gallows. Made my way to Ferelden for a chance of a normal life.” He jerked his head at the squat farm house and barn. “You know, the hay loft would be a lot more comfortable than our root cellar. Warmer, too.”

The boy shook his head. “I got to keep going. I can’t stay here. The Templars will come back and find me and you- you’ll get caught up.”

Malcolm barked out a laugh. “Do you think that’s the first time I’ve seen those shiny arseholes? They think I’m some kooky elf from Kirkwall who does trust anyone cause he ‘married up’. Doesn’t stop their Mother from taking my healing draughts. Regardless, your phylactery is gone. Cracked it myself.”

He snapped his fingers and broke the feather in the boy’s fingers as a demonstration. The wide eyes grew even wider. Malcolm could practically hear the thoughts racing through his head.

“No one’s coming after you with that nasty bit of hypocrisy. You got family to go back to?”

He shook his head. “My father’s family all in the Anderfells. My mother’s died in the Invasion. They wouldn’t exactly welcome me back.”

“Well, I hear that the Tailor farm down the way is looking for some hired help. Could try your hand there if you keep any sparkles well hidden. Or stay here. We got extra room by the hearth and food enough for one more skinny mouth.”

He nibbled at his lip. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“How’s this; help me feed the druffalo and I’ll call it even for an evening’s meal and a bed for the night.”

The boy considered then stood and offered his hand. “It’s a deal.”

Malcolm looked meaningfully at his blood soaked hands. “Is my word good enough? Run this into Leandra, will you?” He handed the goose to him and went to wash up his hands.

Unfamiliar with farm work or not, he worked hard hefting haybales into feed troughs and mucking out the barn. He was nearly silent as they worked and spoke only a few words during dinner. He just shrugged and ducked his head when they asked for his name. Leandra made him a bed roll out of a few spare blankets next to Garret’s cot for the night for ‘that quiet Anders boy’. The fact that anyone was able to sleep with Garret’s incessant questions was amazing in and of itself. His ability to skirt answers amazed Malcolm even more.

The next morning, Leandra put some hard bread, cheese, and dry sausage in a bag and put it by the door with a canteen of water. It was for their runaway should he want to head on his way but there was a fence that needed repairing and they would be more than happy for an extra set of hands. The day after, Davin down the road came running with word of a wolf pack picking off some of his sheep. The whole of the village banded together with slings and bows to drive them off and one more set of hands wouldn’t go amiss. Then it was fair day and Malcolm needed help watching his stall while they were in town. It went like this until the fall harvest was in and the snow made travel too dangerous for all but the most determined. By that point, ‘that quiet Anders boy’ had given up all pretense of moving on. The bag still sat by the door with some cheese and water in it but that was a token gesture. Malcolm had always imagined himself with a large family.


	2. Isabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: spousal abuse, abortion, and child abuse, all off scene and only referenced

For fair days, Malcolm and Leandra would load up the wagon, hitch up their long suffering mule, and leave the children with the Tailor’s before making the half-day trek into Highever. Most of their produce stayed in their cellar or was traded to the neighbors but Malcolm was no shoddy alchemist and could make a good profit selling his tinctures and ointments in the ‘big city’. It was nothing compared to Kirkwall but the market field would go from deserted packed dirt to bustling metropolis the first Saturday of every month.

Leandra did most of the hawking. She had a way with people that Malcolm never did and shems were always more willing to buy from a fellow human, even if ‘elf-made healing draughts’ advertised better. Anders ran packages and watched for sticky fingers. His hair was close enough in shade to Leandra and his eyes looked enough like Malcolm’s own that most assumed he was theirs. Anyone who asked about the sudden addition were told he was Leandra’s nephew, visiting from Kirkwall.

Malcolm was preparing to pack up for the day when Anders came running through the dwindling crowd with a grin on his face.

“There’s a Rivainni seer staying with the Couslands.” He announced. “Everyone’s been talking about her. They say she bewitched a merchant and sucked his soul right out. The tanner says she’s here to bewitch Teryn Bryce next.”

“Oh?” Malcolm turned to Leandra for confirmation.

“One of the spice merchants took his wife with him. I was talking with a few of the maids earlier. I don’t think she’s a seer, Anders. They don’t leave the Rivain.”

His face fell. Malcolm sympathized with him. The boy was quickly running out of things Malcom could teach him. An exotic forbidden mage from a land free of Circles could teach him far more.

The next morning, Anders disappeared before he could be given any chores. Second days were always quieter so they let him have his fun. By late afternoon, however, both were beginning to worry. Malcolm began to fret about Templars and accidental magic. Leandra was nearly convinced he had been robbed and thrown in the gutter by some drunkard. When he returned, he wasn’t alone. A young Rivainni woman wore Anders’s cloak with the hood pulled up around her face.

Anders began to whisper his excuses before Malcolm could even ask. She needed help from a healer, he said, but wouldn’t tell him what. She couldn’t go to any of the healers in the castle and was in fact not a Seer herself, though she knew a few tricks.

Leandra tended the stall as Malcolm led her into their tent. She was a girl in truth, couldn’t be older than eighteen and might be as young as fourteen, though a well-endowed fourteen. She was beautiful and well-dressed under her disguise. Golden rings dotted her ears and lip. Rich cloth in Antivan patterns hugged her curves. She kept her chin up and her gaze disinterested but Malcolm knew she was scared and keeping an eye on her exits.

“What seems to be the problem, serah?” He asked.

“I need something to make my cycle come.” She said bluntly.

“Ah, I see. Anders, go help Leandra.”

“But, Malcolm-”

“Now.”

Anders reluctantly left and Malcolm began to rummage about his collection of herbs.

“Do you know how far along you are?”

“I’ve missed at least two cycles.” She said softly. Her Common was unbroken but still carried a Rivainni roll.

“Not too far then. Does your husband know you’re here?”

“How do you know- no. He doesn’t.”

“There are ways of preventing things like this. Saps and potions that would be in the range of a merchant’s purse.”

“Well I don’t exactly have access to my husband’s purse. My mother used tansy and I can, too. I just need access to it.”

“Tansy is not something to be trifled with. You can die a painful death if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know!”

Malcolm continued partitioning out dried tansy and fennel. He didn’t have much left and it was too late in the year to harvest anymore tansy without the herb being deathly potent.

“This is to be drank as a tea.” He explained as he handed her the tiny parchment packet. “Will you be able to do that?”

“Make a cup of tea?”

“Make a cup of tea without anyone asking questions about what sort it is.

She scowled and nodded. She reached for a purse but he held up his hand. “I don’t need payment. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Consider it in exchange for the cloak. I’ll need it to get back.” She left three silver pieces on her stool and slipped out the back of tent.

Anders pouted the whole way back to their homestead and pestered them both with questions. Leandra pointed out that he was nearly old enough for a particular conversation and Malcolm shuddered. He wouldn’t know where to start. The Circle wasn’t keen on teaching mages the ins and outs of reproducing. He’d picked up most of his information on sex from eavesdropping and firsthand experience. That and the warnings about certain Templars who picked out favorites.

He almost forgot about the young woman in the following month. The harvest was coming and every moment from sun up to sun down was full of work. Anders learned how to thresh wheat and Garret learned how to watch the twins as Leandra burnt her neck under the hot sun. Malcolm carefully added a force spell to the bottom of their wagon to help the poor mule tow the sacks of wheat to the miller and then on to market.

“Will I be able to see Isabella again?” Anders asked as they walked alongside the overladen cart.

“Who?”

“Isabella. The Rivainni woman.”

Malcolm though woman was a bit of an overstatement. “How did you even meet her in the first place.”

“She was in the Upper Market, talking to Imogen. She needed help.”

“Imogen? Why were you hanging around-”

“I wasn’t! I was just nearby and saw them talking and thought that maybe you could help her.”

Malcolm scowled. Imogen could have easily helped Isabella as well but would have asked for much more than a spare cloak. Not every member of the Mage Underground was able to be as charitable as him. Which reminded him…

“We need to get you a new cloak. Let’s take you to the weaver’s today, hmm?”

The idea of new clothes quickly distracted the boy. The plan, however, backfired. He followed his foster son from stall to stall as he ran his fingers over fresh cloth and shiny buttons. Malcolm let him wander into the walls of the city where the pricier items lay. They couldn’t afford anything for sale in the High Market aside from a sweet treat but looking didn’t hurt.

Anders’s face split into a massive smile when they reached a stall selling Antivan patterned stoles. Malcolm traced his gaze upward, away from the clothing and clapped hand on his shoulder before the boy could say something. Isabella’s face was completely free of any recognition when she asked if they were looking for anything in particular.

“Just looking, Serah.” Malcolm assured her.

“_Muñeca, _do not worry yourself with them.” A much older man emerged from the rear of the stall. “They will be just looking and if they do anything else the guard will know.”

He laid a protective hand against the small of her back. Her intake of breath was minute but meaningful. Malcolm quickly tried to think of some way to signal to her. Instead, he just nodded to the married couple and escorted Anders away quickly.

He slept poorly that night. Memories of the Gallows haunted him. It was not a part of his life that he liked to dwell on, for all that it was nearly half his life. He rolled over and focused on the silhouette of Leandra’s face in the darkness. She breathed evenly, peacefully. She had given up so much for him and he had gained everything.

Malcolm rose and gathered up his clothes. His wife stirred momentarily but he assured her he’d only be gone a moment. Imogen’s house was still lit when he arrived. She lifted a skeptical brow when he knocked but let him in. He got answers to a number of his questions and confirmation on many of his suspicions. Imogen’s stall sold enchantments to the wealthy and powerful of Highever. He may have disliked her side business in the lyrium underground but he had to respect the keenness of her rounded ears.

“Will you see her again? Within the next day or so?”

“Very likely.” Imogen shrugged. “I’m unsure of what I can do about it, however.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth. Jaded, he reminded himself, she was jaded and too used to failure to try anything beyond the minimum.

“If you see her before the market is finished, tell her I have a larger dose of abortifactant at our farmstead.”

He gathered up his cloak and tried not to storm out. Leandra was awake and worried when he returned. He whispered his discovery back to her and his attempt at a plan. She nodded and agreed to keep an eye out for an runaway Rivainnis.

Two days later, as they packed up their remaining goods and Anders got underfoot twirling around in his new cloak, a young woman stole between the carts of the low market and found them.

“Morning, serah.” Malcolm greeted her. “Will you be joining us on the way back to the farm?”

“If you have room for one more.”

“I’m sure Anders won’t mind walking.” He grinned. The boy had frozen when he saw her coming and was practically hovering in his excitement. He pestered her with dozens of question and nearly as many stories about their home on the long way back. She dodged most of the delicate topics nimbly with a quick wit but still gave up more than enough to make Malcolm sure that he had made the right choice.

-

“How long can I stay.” Isabella asked as they unloaded the cart.

Anders was asleep under their tent and Leandra had already left for the Tailor’s to pick up the rest of the children so they were alone in the fading light.

“As long as you want.” He answered. “We might not be as comfortable as Castle Cousland but we’ve got a warm dry place set aside for people who need it.”

“You’re part of the Underground.”

“We are.”

“What if I run to the Templars?”

“Then we’ll move on. We’ve don’t it in the past.”

She snorted. “You’d just let me? I could be a spy sent to find people like you and report back on all your friends.”

“You could be.” He shrugged. “But you’re not and I’ll take the risk if it means helping someone in need. Anders is a runaway, too. Managed to get out of the Circle and all the way up here before the Templars caught up. Could’ve just given him up and bought myself a better cover but then who would’ve helped you?”

“I didn’t need your help. I was going to leave anyway. Once we got back to Antiva.”

He didn’t answer. It was such a self-assured statement but the balled fists and tilted chin reminded him of Garrett when he didn’t want to practice his letters. Maker, she was young.

“Leave Anders where he is. He’ll wake up sooner or later. Let’s start dinner boiling, hm?”

Whatever her life had been before marriage, Malcolm doubted she had been born noble. She volunteered to cut the potatoes for stew and did so with a practiced hand. She didn’t blink an eye when he set the pot boiling with a wave of his hand or at the mage light he used to the light the kitchen. She didn’t even seem taken aback by their simple three room home with earthen floors and windows made of skin and shutters. She was used to this sort of life. Anders came in bleary eyed soon before Leandra returned with the younger ones. Garret ignored any hugs from Papa in favor of immediately introducing himself and the twins.

Between him and Anders both trying to explain every minute detail about their home, Isabella didn’t have much a chance to talk over dinner. Leandra had to put her foot down when it was time for bed as both insisted that the other give up their bed for her in their shared room. They made a bedroll for her by the hearth instead. It eventually moved to the loft between the sacks of grain and the trunk Malcolm used to hide his Circle gear. Cutting potatoes became swapping recipes with Leandra every evening while they both bemoaned the lack of spices available. Listening the Garret explain how to do his chores became enthralling him with stories about life in Antiva. Anders disappointment with her lack of Seer abilities became a fledgling crush which seemed to amuse her and Leandra to no end every time he moped about the house because she said he was like a little brother to her. As the snows fell, life in the Hawke household readjusted to another member.

-

“But why ‘Anders’, no one calls me ‘Rivainni’.”

He shrugged. “It just stuck. It was like I couldn’t talk when they first took me to the Circle. And when Ma and Papa took me in it felt weird to change it.”

“But what did your parents call you?”

“ ‘That demon’.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think ‘Anders’ is rather fitting.”

-

“Don’t focus on aiming, focus on when to release, Garret.”

“But then how do I hit anything?”

“By releasing at the right moment.”

“Are you sure that Pa is alright with you teaching me this?”

“He’s teaching Anders how to chuck balls of fire about. Could he really be annoyed with you learning how to use a sling. Just wait until you chases some wolves out of the barn or something.”

“Wolves!”

“Oh yes. That’s why Rivainni children learn to use these. Well, jackals and leopards but it’s the same idea.”

Garrett face blanched but he took a breath again began to spin his sling. He released just a bit too high and his stone soared over the tree line.

“I missed.”

“But you were heading in the right direction. Keep practicing. You’ll get it.”

-

“You need a better lock for your trunk.”

“Pardon?”

“The trunk in the loft with all your old mage stuff. It’s not very good.” She handed him a tome that had, until recently, been in the trunk.

“You picked it?”

“It wasn’t very hard. Which is why you need a better one.”

“Or you could respect my privacy and not pick locked trunks.”

“Templars don’t respect privacy.”

He swallowed some of his anger and admitted she was right. He mentally added ‘better lock’ to his list of thing to buy when the fairs resumed come spring.

-

It was mud season in Ferelden, the awful period of time between proper winter and proper spring when the snows melted in the morning and froze in the night. The twins and the older boys were trapped playing in doors to avoid the knee deep swamps of mud and slush which meant the small house was almost always full of shouting, screaming, or someone crying because someone else wasn’t sharing a toy. It was also one of the few times when Isabella would actively volunteer to help him in the barn.

Stables mucked out, mule and cow water, the two of them made their way back across the treacherous ground towards the house. Malcolm noticed her eyes tracing the path of the road winding out past the hills. It was a beautiful sight. A thin line of brown following the rolling hills. Bits of brown and green poked between the shabby blanket of white snow. A speckling of other farm houses sent up a traces of smoke. It was the sort of view that he had hungered for while trapped in the Gallows but Isabella’s face had a different sort of longing.

“You’re not going to stay here much longer, are you?” He said. 

She shrugged. “I feel trapped here. I’m not meant to be a farmer. It’s not what I want from life.”

“What _do_ you want, Isabella?”

“I don’t know! I just don’t want to be here. It’s not-” She sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s nice here but I always know exactly what is going to happen every day. The only variety is what Carver wants to stick up his nose now.”

“Leandra thinks he’ll grow out of that soon.”

“That’s the point! I can feel time passing and I’m trapped. I want to go to Highever, find something that is more exciting than plowing the same field every season.”

Malcolm frowned. “There’s a lot of dangerous sorts in Highever. I’m not sure I would want to walk some of those street by myself and I’m-”

“And you’re not a sixteen year old woman.” Isabella finished. “Exactly. I don’t need a father, Malcolm. I’ve never needed one. I can do things on my own.”

It stung. He never had any illusion about Isabella needing him as much as his other children but it still hurt. Funny, when had he started thinking of her as one of children?”

“You don’t have to, Isabella.” He said after a long painful moment. “But we won’t stop you. You’re path is your path. How’s this, after the next rain washes through, I’ll send word to Immogen that you’re looking for something? She’s always looking for more hands with tight lips. And if we have to move on again, I’ll make sure she can pass word on to you.”

Isabella smiled. “Thanks.” She butted her shoulder against his. It wasn’t one of Anders beaming grins or Garrets aggressive hugs but was about as affectionate as she got and it meant the world to him.

She was gone in the morning. A satchel of food and her spare change of clothes were gone but one of her golden earrings was waiting for them on the kitchen table.

-

The mule died just as they were beginning to plant. Malcolm swore himself blue when he found the thing dead in its stall. They didn’t have the coin to buy a new one and hardly had enough food to keep themselves fed, let alone trade for anything so expensive. Perhaps they could find a moneylender in the city or maybe Andraste herself when part the clouds and bless the fields to plow themselves.

Anders suggested a spirit of Dedication he saw last week. If it could be persuaded to animate the dead mule, they wouldn’t need a new one. But necromancy was not something to be experiment with. They would manage. Was a lot of back breaking work but they managed. Anders and Malcolm took the backbreaking role of pulling the harness over their shoulders while Leandra guided the plow. It was embarrassing for his wife, he knew that but what else could they do?

But then a late frost killed the seeds they worked so hard to plant and a flood washed away half the irrigation ditches. They had twice as much work to do and Andraste still wasn’t parting any clouds.

Malcolm stood out in their main field glaring at the dead wilting shafts of wheat. A few sacks of potatoes and mule jerky wouldn’t be enough to feed them for a few months, let alone all of the summer and they still had the winter to consider. His eye drifted toward the road to Highever. Immogen had offered him work last time they had seen each other, work that would be highly valued. Highly valued meant risk and when it came to Immogen risk almost always meant Templars. The figure of a rider on a horse began to approach. Maker, what he wouldn’t give for a horse.

Garret came racing over the dirt with his sling, yelling about hitting a bird. Malcolm turned away from their fallow field and went to go see what his son had hit. It ended up being one of the neighbor’s ganders that had wandered too far afield but he wasn’t about to turn down fresh meat, not this spring. He was showing a slightly queasy Garret and a fascinated Anders how to gut the bird when Leandra started shouting for him. His first instinct was to hide the bird.

He stashed the bird in the wood shed and tried to think of a good excuse. When they got back to the house he still didn’t have one but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t any neighbor, it was Isabella. She was dressed in armor and linens dyed bright colors. Her earrings were replaced with large silver studs and her hair was chopped short enough for it to spring up in curls around her head like a halo.

“Bet you weren’t expecting me to show up again, were you?” She grinned at him. He didn’t get a word in before Garret had thrown himself into her arms for a hug.

With the goose roasting over the fire, Isabella began to launch into a tale of the last two months. She’d found work with a river barge crew, transporting goods between Highever and Redcliffe. The captain was a colorful character along with every other member of the crew, apparently. As entertained as they were, Malcolm knew the children could read between the lines. Isabella was didn’t give many details on what sort of cargo they were transporting and he doubted she could have earned enough for her new apparel with honest work. It made him worry but mostly he was relieved to see her again.

“And I’ve brought presents, of course.” Isabella announced once the meal was over. “For you, young master mage. We found this near the Calenhad Tower. One of the mages must have dropped it out a window or something.” She drew out a thick tome of spells from her rucksack and handed to Anders. Like some illicit cousin of the Satinalia Spirit, Isabella pulled dolls and wooden animals from her bag for the twins, a new cloak and grow-into sized boots from Garret, and a beautifully varnished wooden box for Leandra.

“Now, I won’t say how much vanilla was originally in their but there’s still plenty for you.”

Leandra’s eyes bulged when she opened it and saw a collection of small vials filled with spices from across Thedas. The children trudged off to bed with sleepy from warm vanilla spiced milk and Isabella kicked up her feet at their dinner table.

“Sorry I didn’t bring you anything in particular, Mal.” She apologized to him. “I do have this, though.” She placed a small purse on the table.

“Isabella, you didn’t have to do any of this.” Leandra took her hands in her own.

“Didn’t have to but I felt like I had a debt.”

“We didn’t help you for-”

“I know you didn’t expect anything.” She interrupted him. “But I felt like I had a debt.”

Malcolm smiled and nodded. He knew the feeling. His son named Carver was asleep in the next room over, after all.

“Will you be staying long?” Leandra asked. “How long do you have before you have to return to the barge.”

“Oh, I left them behind. Life was growing stale again. I wanted to see more of Ferelden anyway. Thought I’d make my way towards Denerim and see what the capitol had to offer.”

“Will your crew be looking for you?” The Satinalia Spirit probably didn’t steal its presents from former employers.

“If they are they’ll be looking for the family of ‘Mallia’ somewhere in Rivain.”

“Clever.”

“I like to be.”

Isabella’s horse helped them plow the fields over the next few days before she was gone once again with a silver earring waiting on the dinner table.


	3. Leto and Varania

Isabella returned that winter without her rich clothes but with a wealth of stories. She remained with them as the snows fell. She taught Garret and Anders knots while keeping the one golden earring she had left out of reach of Bethany’s grabby hands. The twins were going through a phase of putting everything in their mouths. Again.

Malcolm didn’t ask too many questions about what she had done in the months since they saw her or what had turned her fortunes for the worse. She left shortly after Saturnalia and left the lonely earing. That spring, she rode in from the east on the back of a bronto carrying an armory worth of raw iron. Her earrings were back and matched a sapphire stud in her lower lip the size of his pinkie nail.

Whatever business Isabella got up to, she was apparently quite good at it and enjoying herself very much. Malcolm supposed that that was what every parent wanted for their children.

That summer, in the height of a drought, Isabella returned to the Hawke family farm for the last time. The dust cloud rising from her horse’s hoofbeats was the first sign of her arrival. Malcolm watched it approach from the wheat field ready for harvest. The sweating animal hadn’t even finished skittering to a halt at their stoop before she was swinging herself out of the saddle.

“The Templars got Innogen.” She said.

Malcolm felt the blood drain from his face. “When? How?”

She was dressed in leathers and linen. She had a pair of short swords strapped to her back and blood staining the cloth of her pants. The beginning of bruise was swelling up around her left eye. She had been in a fight and may be hurt otherwise but there was more to consider.

“They raided her apartment before dawn. I’m not sure how but they have a list of safehouses. Artem’s dead. Darrin and Alice are captured.”

And if the Templars knew about those houses they knew about them. There could be a regiment on its way as they spoke. It was time to move on.

Everything he had built with Leandra over the years was reduced to a prioritized list. The oxen were hitched and they loaded the wagon with what they could in order of what they needed most. Coin, clothing, food, tools, everything became a balance of weight versus need.

In under an hour, the home was just another house and the family Hawke was ready to move on. Leandra was calming the nervous oxen. Garret was perched on the driver’s seat making faces to cheer up the twins. They were too young to understand what all the commotion was about. Anders knew the fear of being hunted all to well. The young man stared at the barn where Malcolm had first found him and worried his hands over his ‘walking stick’.

By nightfall, this place would be long behind them. By nightfall, Oliver would be wondering what had happened.

“Isabella, what have you heard from Oliver?” Malcolm asked.

She looked up from where she was checking her horse’s hooves. “The trafficker? I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“He’s been away. I just received news last week that he was supposed to be here tonight.”

“I didn’t know you were working with him.”

“It’s nothing like that. He’s moving people south, not north.”

“That’s not all he’s doing.” She said darkly.

“He’s expecting us to be here tonight. Are the Templars expecting that?”

She didn’t answer. Malcolm grit his teeth. Leandra and his family needed him but the escaped slaves in Oliver’s train also needed him. Anders had finished loading the chickens into their crates and was watching their conversation.

“I’m going to ask for the horse, Isabella.”

“What do you think you’re going to do?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Ride ahead and warn them. If they can turn back to their last stop in the Frostbacks, they can figure out a new plan from there.”

“How do you know that it wasn’t Oliver that betrayed the Underground? How do you know that they aren’t already in custody?”

“I don’t. But if all they need is someone giving them a warning I have to do it.”

Leandra rested a hand on his elbow. “We can wait for you at the lakeshore. Just- just be careful, my love.”

His wife gave his arm a squeeze.

“Pa, let me come with you.” Anders said.

Isabella snorted. “A sword will be more useful than a burst of healing magic when we find them.”

“Neither of you are coming with me.” Malcolm corrected. “Isabella, let Anders heal your eye and then move. There’s a campsite near Lake Calenhad. If I’m not there in a week, move on.”

“What do you mean ‘if’.” Anders said. “You’re coming back. You’re just going to warn them and come back, right?”

Leandra laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s worry about what we can right now, dear. Bella, is it just your eye that’s hurt?”

He swung into the saddle and urged the horse into a trot. He gave one last glance over his shoulder at the farmhouse. Anders was delivering the finishing touches on a healing spell for Isabella’s eye. Leandra was explaining things to the younger children. Isabella was the haunting one. She glared over Ander’s shoulder at him. This was a risky decision, they both knew it. He just hoped he’d come back to prove her wrong.

He alternated the horse between a trot and walk until dusk, dismounting to walk every few miles. Seabirds wheeled overhead and the terrain had changed from rolling hills and farms to steeper, rockier forests. The coast of the Waking Sea and the trail was just beyond the trees. Oliver led his crews across a network of old paths and exposed coastline. It was hard going which was why he had chosen this route. The main North Road was easier but far more likely to host Templars, Bannorn forces, or bandits.

He led the horse down the slope onto the rocky beach and continued on foot. Night fell and he continued with a mage light hovering around his feet. It was small enough for him to keep his footing but not bright enough to catch the attention of any unwanted eyes. Hopefully.

He had just finished fording a small stream when a crack like thunder rang across the shore. The horse reared and nearly yanked him clear off his feet. He kept a grip on the reins as the animal tried to back away from the sudden noise. A burst of light lit the shore a few hundred meters off. He caught a split second of a silhouettes. A pair of carts beset by armed men.

Malcolm swung himself into the saddle and slapped a shock of electricity across the horse’s rump. If it threw him, it threw him but he needed to move. He charged across the rocks. Another crack rang out and someone screamed.

It was followed by a roar. The horse reared again and tried to shy away. Malcolm didn’t blame it. That was not a human roar. The gut wrenching echo of a Templar’s Silence shook the air but it did nothing against the abomination. A Templar corpse sailed into the surf and more figures were running.

Malcolm cast a firebolt at the closest armor clad back. The light of burning clothes gave clarity to a scene he didn’t want to see. Oliver stood atop one of the carts with his staff slung across his back. Blood dripped down his arm and he stabbed downward with his knife at the Templar trying to pull him free. The abomination he had made distracted the rest. The flesh of its too long limbs and twisted back bristled with arrows.

The Templar archers by the treeline crumpled like toy soldiers when he released his force blast. The knight captain was yelling for his men to tackled the new problem. It just made him easier to spot. He died with another bolt of fire. The mage hunters were running now, chased by the abomination. Malcolm gave up on the horse and crossed the remaining distance on foot.

“Oliver, put it down, put it down!” He screamed. If that thing ran out of targets, they would be next.

An arrow struck him dead in the chest and Malcolm screamed. His vision turned to a tunnel as he fell. Blood was dripping on to the rocks underneath him.

“Maker, damnit Myrtle, he’s on our side!”

Malcolm was still blinking away spots when Oliver flipped him over. The pain of the jostled arrow threatened to overwhelm him. There was an arrow in his chest. He couldn’t breath because there was an arrow in his chest.

Oliver ripped it free without ceremony and jammed a healing spell in the skin. There were still people yelling but all Malcolm could do was cling to consciousness. Oliver swore and pressed a palm against his chest. He expected another healing spell. Instead, the other mage muttered an enchantment in old Tevene. Cold leeched into his limbs and his vision began to fade to black again. The taste of blood and bile filled his mouth. There was one last great crack and an ominous squishing noise. The abomination was dead.

“Myrtle, find the mules.”

“That was Garrin. You turned Garrin into… into that-”

“Go get the mules.”

Rocks crunched next to his head. The energy to stand, just to turn his head, was gone. At least the stars were pretty.

There was more bustle behind him. It seemed very distant compared to the numbness in his fingers and the piercing pain in his chest. A shadow blocked out his vision. Isabella’s horse lipped at his hair. He managed to stroke its cheek with one trembling hand. A more careful healing spell against his chest showed just how much damage Myrtle’s arrow had done. One of his ribs was fracture and there was a tear in his lung. Blood leaked underneath his skin. He spread a blanket of healing magic into the tissue but he knew he wouldn’t be able to heal it completely.

He gripped the loose mane of the horse and used that to pull himself to his feet. Scrapes and bruises were already forming from his fall. Oliver was corralling back together his broken party. One of the thin-cheeked elves was yelling at him. There were about a dozen in total, some standing defensively in front of children, others seemingly unfazed by Oliver’s use of blood mage.

Because that was what he used. He had drawn some of Malcolm’s own blood to stop the abomination he created. Fear laced its way up his spine. Myrtle came up on the other side of the horse and offered her hand for it to inspect.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly.

He shrugged. “It was an accident. I came to warn Oliver. Innogen’s been discovered.”

Myrtle didn’t seem to react. She stroked her hand down the horse’s nose.

“We’re moving on.” Oliver growled. It was apparently the end of his conversation with the escapee. He rounded on them and stormed forward with a foul expression on his face.

“What in the hell is happening, Hawke?”

“Innogen dead. Her network has been compromised.”

“Shit. That complicates things.” He didn’t seem to care for their colleague’s death otherwise. “We’ll have to double back to West Hills. What about you? You compromised?”

“We’re moving on.” Malcolm answered shortly.

Behind Oliver, the escapees were clustering together around the carts. There was a family of four, a human mother with her children, a young couple, and a pair of children standing isolated from the rest.

“Well, best of luck to you. I think I’ve got this lot convinced that I won’t kill them before dawn. Damn, I was expecting some pay in Highever. Myrtle, I think your wage is going to be a bit short this trip.”

Myrtle didn’t answer. She had moved on to untangling the horse’s mane. Oliver always worked with a pair of accomplices. Malcolm wondered just how long Garrin and her had been partners.

Oliver returned to the carts and the escapees began to climb in, all except the two children. The taller, a red headed girl, moved in front of the younger one and they shuffled away from Oliver.

“Varania, come here.” The human mother ordered her.

The girl shook her head. “_Maleficorum._”

Myrtle tried to lead them back to the carts but she shied away again. The human told her to get into the cart in broken Tevene. Varania answered in a slew of words. It wasn’t the High Tevene that Malcolm had learned while studying in the Cirlce but he understood most of it.

She was scared that Oliver would kill them like a slaveholder had killed their father. He would turn them into abomination and they all needed to run before it happened.

“Tell her to get in the cart or they’re getting left behind.” Oliver ordered.

_“Dicit ille post te relinquo.” _Malcolm pronounced carefully. Oliver seemed mildly surprised by his use of Tevene but the girl looked both astonished and relieved.

She immediately pelted him with dozens of questions and demands. He held up his hands to slow her down and walked over to crouch beside the two siblings.

There was no doubt that they were siblings. They had the same nose, strong chin, and vibrant green eyes though the boy’s shaggy hair was much darker. They were both thin and wore dirty, worn clothes that would be much better suited to Tevinter’s climate than Ferelden’s. Varania must have been about nine and the boy couldn’t have been any older than Garret.

“My name is Malcolm.” He told her in his best Tevene. “What is yours?”

“Varania. This is Leto.”

“Hawke, I’m leaving. Either convinced them to get in or they’re your responsibility.”

Malcolm considered hexing Oliver at that point. The children were scared and alone, thousands of miles from home.

“Would you be happier if you came with me? I am returning to my family. I can take you with me.”

“You’re _Liberati_.” Varania said. It took him a moment to recall the word.

“No. I am a father. And I’m not a blood mage.”

Leto pulled at his sister’s sleeve and whispered something into her ear. She nodded after a moment. Oliver must have taken that as agreement but he cracked the reins and the set the mules on their way, back the way they had come.

Varania watched him leave warily. “Where are we going?”

“There is a lake. It is south of here. First, let’s find some place to sleep for the night.”

The strain of riding for hours and casting major spells was weighing on him. Stumbling through half remember Teven was a problem he didn’t have the energy to deal with right now. He lifted the two of them on the back of the horse and began to head south, back into the hills and the trees.

Dawn found him dozing against the side of a tree. The horse was asleep beside them tied to a branch. The two siblings were asleep with their heads propped against the saddle and the saddle blanket draped over them.

He pieced together their story over the next few days. They were had been born slaves in Tevinter, as he had expected. They had belonged to a Magister. Two months ago, they were supposed to take some sort of mysterious ‘trip’. Their mother had found Oliver instead. He didn’t want to think about the two siblings being sacrificed for blood magic and what their mother could have used to pay the smuggler.

The unfairness of it all stung. Theses two children had fled across a continent to escape a place where magic ruled only to be caught up a war waged against it. They had run so far and all he could offer them was more running.

Six years ago, he had travelled this same stretch of Ferelden countryside in a similar fashion. Leandra had been heavily pregnant with Garret as they made their way south. She rode on they’re stolen donkey as his feet blistered then calloused with miles of walking. The Lakeside camp had saved their life and Malcolm offered a quick thank you to whatever god had shown him the path. A worn elvhen relief of a halla was carved into a rock face on the shore of Lake Calenhad. Tracing the line of its antlers led to a notch in the rock.

“We’re not far now.” He assured the siblings as he led the horse through the low tunnel.

On the other side, in a hollow between two stone cliff faces was a sheltered bit of shoreline. Fresh water trickled from a spring and fish swam in the shallows. The underbrush had been cleared aside from edible plants and a few of the trees had elvhen writing carved into the bark. It was safe and it was where his son had been born.

“Papa!”

Garret hurtled out from between the trees and threw himself into Malcolm’s arms. He pulled his son into a tight hug. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. He hadn’t allowed himself to doubt that he would find them again but the relieve was crushing.

“You’re alright!” Anders wasn’t far behind.

“Of course he is. I did tell you so.”

“Isabella, you did not!”

“Yes I did! You don’t have any proof that I didn’t.”

Leandra didn’t chide them for bickering, just pressed her head to his shoulder. They were here, they were safe. Whatever happened next they would be together. His wife pulled away and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her apron.

“And who are these two?”

“Varania and Leto. They were travelling with Oliver.”

“But not anymore?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

He helped the children down off the horse and introduced them to the rest of the family in Tevene. They were nervous, understandably, but they didn’t look as if they would try to run. Leandra added a bit more to the stew she had bubbling on the fire and began to rummage through what clothes they had to find something warmer for them.

That night he explained what had happened in hushed whispers. The children were asleep under a tent of tarpaulin in one giant pile. Isabella had excused herself from that category and listened with a bored expression. It was a grim moment. The three of them sat in the darkness of the dying fire. The Templars could very well still be looking for them and they had nowhere to turn to. The future was uncertain but for now, here in this hollow, they would be safe.


End file.
